"SO THAT'S NOT, Y'KNOW," McCoy struggles to find a way to word what he wants to ask without immediately getting decked for it, gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards the other, eyes lingering on his attire. It's all very elegant, a swooping neckline and glimmering jewelry, high boots that make his Starfleet-regulated heels look like nothing in comparison. It's hard to keep from making a comment, crammed as they are into the same train and with curiosity ( worry? they look great, but he could never pull that outfit off ) burning in the back of his mind. "The standard look around here. I mean, if I were to waltz on into a clothing store, my options wouldn't..." he trails off, closes his mouth, restarts.
"I'm more of a denim guy," is his new explanation. He's had more pressing matters to attend to since being dragged here, getting out of his uniform has not been a priority, and if they've all been dumped in this place how is he supposed to know if they've all just been wearing whatever they got from home day-in and day-out? He can't expect everywhere to subscribe to 23rd-century Federation fashion standards.
Christmas as a cultural icon is starting to get really dystopian in a climate sense, december has historically been a time of year in which there would be snow in a significant portion of europe and north america, and the fact that its not even icy this time of year and all the christmas songs and decorations reference a time of year that will likely never exist in the same way again in my life time is so strange.
its actually very silly that if ur any type of art kid as a teenager everyone is like oh have u thought abt graphic design or advertising. yeah the little emo dude who fills sketchbooks with anime gore all day would be great at making customers buy product.
WHEN THE FIRST TRACES OF NIGHT start to leave the sky, Jedediah is nowhere near close enough to shelter and he knows it.
If you had asked him just few days ago to describe the museum he might've chose the word prison. It was home, too, sure it was; a home he couldn't ever leave, though. The place was plenty big enough for him but there was always something stifling, something claustrophobic about knowing that your entire existence was meant to be spent under just one roof. Unlike many of his counterparts Jedediah holds no memories of a life before awakening, no memory of seeing the stars for himself, and doggonnit, he'd wanted to.
It's only now, snatched away from the place, that he starts to wonder if maybe his judgment towards it was a little undeserving. It's a harsh truth to realize that the fresh air and open space and stars come with a hefty price tag: there ain't no roof out here, nothing to keep him from crumbling to dust when the first rays of sunlight hit in the morning the way he knows they're about to. Jed can't even be sure that particular little quirk of the tablet still holds true here, but he sure as heck isn't gonna stand around to find out.
( For one, Octavius wouldn't know what to do without him. )
It's a painful thing, swallowing his pride enough to run right on up to the first stranger he sees on the street, whistling and waving his hat in a demand for attention ( he tells himself that getting caught in the sun would be more painful; it only makes him feel slightly better about the whole thing ).
"Heyo, Stretch! Yeah, you!" He waves a hand in a get down here sort of gesture, but doesn't actually wait for the other to get any closer to eye level ( he don't got time for that ). "Give a cowpoke a lift, would ya? I'm runnin' outta time down here!"
IT'S THE SORT OF AFFAIR LEONARD TENDS TO LOATHE, stiff high collars and slick dress shoes, all those people spinning in dizzying circles. The masks everyone sports are like an echo of a bygone era in Earth's history, sort of charming albeit eccentric. If McCoy was smarter he wouldn't be here at all; but a few dozen crash courses in diplomacy have taught him the importance of making an appearance. He has to find his bearings here eventually, and turning into a hermit won't help in that regard.
Besides, there's supposedly free drinks ( though perhaps he should have selected a mask that's a bit easier to drink with - the hooked beak attached to his won't do him any favors there ).
The benefit of being in a room full of masked strangers is that he doesn't have to feel any associated guilt for being a bother. Not everyone is dancing; there's a fair share of stragglers on the edges of the room, perusing the snacks or admiring the decor. He elbows a couple here and there.
"Think they've got anything stronger, or are we talking just dry wines and fancy champagne?" What? It's an honest question.
Ice king is a really good character because they intoduce him and you're like "haha what a freak what's wrong with him" and then the show goes "oh! You want to know? Let me show you :)" and you end up just sitting there like